


Come Hell or High Water

by EmynIthilien



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2114448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmynIthilien/pseuds/EmynIthilien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Davos succeeds in Lord Manderly’s mission to find a long-lost Stark—just not the Stark everyone had been expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Hell or High Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pfalz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pfalz/gifts).



> Take a look at [ this map of the Vale](http://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Vale_of_Arryn) to locate the castle Coldwater Burn of Coldwater Vale, the place where Davos begins the story at.
> 
> Additionally, this story was written for the 10th round of [got_exchange](http://got-exchange.livejournal.com/) on livejournal for the following prompt: Davos and Sansa: Storms lead Davos’ ship to the Fingers where he finds Sansa.

Dead things in the water. Storms, icy winds, and dead things in the water. All those things and more had led Davos Seaworth and his wreck of a ship and half-drowned crew to a sorry little beach on the Fingers. And what was Davos doing there, instead of at the magnificent port of White Harbor or by his king’s side? _Trying to find a long-lost Stark boy that all of Westeros believes to be dead, save for a mute Greyjoy squire and a fat lord bent on vengeance. Folly, all of it._

But Davos was willing to partake in a bit of folly if it meant keeping his head and doing his duty to his king, albeit in a roundabout way. If he could find a trueborn son of Ned Stark, Lord Manderly would take Stannis Baratheon for his king and give silver, men, and a fleet of newly built ships to the cause. However, the finding of the boy was proving rather difficult. Wex, the mute Greyjoy squire, was convinced that the boy, his direwolf, and a wildling woman caretaker had headed to Skagos, but Davos’ journey to the frozen island had been a waste. The native Skagosi could tell him nothing about direwolves, so Davos and his crew on Lord Manderly’s ship the _Laughing Merman_ had taken to sailing down the northern coastline looking for clues, for it was more likely than not that the Stark boy had never crossed the Narrow Sea.

And that’s when the storm hit and dead things started to crawl out of the water. The living corpses captured a number of sailors and promptly began to feast on their flesh before being washed overboard by the wild waves of the churning sea. Princess Shireen’s nightmares of stone dragons coming to life were beginning to seem tame by comparison. Davos had _tried_ to steer his ship west once he’s passed Widow’s Watch, but an icy gale out of the northwest had made his attempts impossible, nearly splitting the mast of the ship in two.

Maybe Stannis was right about the gods after all, thought Davos, them simply being fabrications of men. Or perhaps the gods _did_ exist but preferred torture over love.

~

The _Laughing Merman_ had inexplicably washed up near the only port along the Coldwater Vale, presided over by the small but ancient castle of Coldwater Burn located high up on a cliff. The port was surrounded by a small village that served to export crops, wool, and sheep from the surrounding farms and highlands to Gulltown. After making some inquiries, Davos determined that the village had the supplies and carpenters he needed to fix the ship in a decent amount of time.

So now all he could do was wait. And observe the going-ons of the locals, who included a group of three young ladies who would walk from Coldwater Burn to the village sept every morning at sunrise without fail. One looked rather like an older version of Shireen with her black hair and dark blue eyes, another was short and buxom with curly chestnut-colored hair, and the last was tall with beautiful blue eyes and auburn eyebrows. The last lady intrigued Davos the most. Though clearly the youngest, her companions seemed to follow her lead. As well, she always wore a scarf around her hair as if she was trying to hide it—from what Davos didn’t know.

“My ladies,” Davos finally said to them one day, bowing low as they walked by his half-fixed ship. Wex stood by his side, giving the girls a silent smile.

All of them erupted into giggles. Well, all save the girl with the headscarf, who looked warily at Davos before asking him:

“Why would you think that I’m a lady, Ser?”

Davos thought back to all the highborn women he had met while in the service of King Stannis, from haughty Queen Cersei to quiet Princess Shireen. “Stray observations, not counting your entourage. And because your accent and choice of words are different from the common folk in the Vale.”

Her eyes widened. “My name is Alayne Stone. I’m nothing but a bastard.”

The girl with the curly hair snorted. “Sure you are, Alayne. You’re nothing but the daughter of the Lord Protector the Eyrie, set to marry the heir of the Vale.” She turned to smile broadly at Davos. “Mya Stone here probably cares the least about being called a lady, for she cuts her black hair short with her own dagger. I’m Myranda Royce, Ser, and I do hope you’ve heard of my father Lord Nestor Royce?”

The name Royce was more than vaguely familiar to Davos, as he’d smuggled some valuable cargo from Runestone back in the day. Without the lord being any the wiser.

Davos bowed again, this time with more seriousness. He wondered what the Lord Protector was doing at a small castle so far from the magnificent Eyrie. He also wondered why a man as sly and as cautious as Petyr Baelish would be so careless to father a bastard. But every man had his weaknesses, as Stannis was fond of saying about just, _honorable_ Ned Stark. 

“Why would you assume that I’m a knight? Unless my salt-stained clothes and lack of a sword give me away?”

It was Alayne who responded back. “We’ve been watching you and your ship for days now. You’re the one who directs the repairs, and sometimes the sailors address you as ‘my lord.’ So perhaps Ser isn’t your correct title after all.”

Davos gave a nervous laugh at that.

“You have guessed right, Lady Alayne. My name is Ser…” _Most all of Westeros believes Ser Davos to be dead, and I need to lecture my crew straight away never to call me ‘my lord Hand’ or anything of the sort._ “Ser Dale.” His firstborn son had always dreamed of becoming a knight, and before the grievous Battle of Blackwater Bay Dale had been well on his way as captain of Stannis’ _Wraith_. “Ser Dale of White Harbor.”

“What are you doing so far from your home?”

_Doing my duty to my king. On a mission for a lord who won’t shy at killing me to serve his own ends._ “Merely scouting the coasts for Lord Manderly. A fleet of pirate ships from Lys sailed with Lord Stannis to the Wall, and my crew and I are making sure those pirates don’t trouble White Harbor.”

Strangely, Alayne’s eyes brightened at Davos’ mention of Stannis.

“I prayed for King Stannis to win the Battle of Blackwater Bay and take King Joffrey’s head. The gods never heard my prayers, though. They rarely have. And now winter is here.”

“Yes,” said Davos slowly, rather stunned at Alayne’s admission and not knowing what to make of it. “The gods rarely hear our prayers. And now winter is here.”

~

As the ship repairs progressed, Davos sent his crew to the village taverns to drink, the local farms to collect supplies, and the sept to pray. Really, any place except the castle where Lord Protector Baelish would be. While Davos knew that many of the men would simply squander their silver on ale and whores, he was banking on the others to bring back useful news, rumors, and gossip.

His investment paid off.

Word had it that Lord Coldwater had received a raven from the Wall signed by no less that King Stannis himself. The letter told of a great victory over the Boltons and Freys at Winterfell and a vow not to stop fighting until all “pretenders and usurpers” had been defeated. From what Davos knew of Stannis’ tactics, if the king had bothered to send a raven to Lord Coldwater, he had likely sent one to every lord in Westeros. The realm would now know that the Battle of Blackwater Bay had far from finished the rightful king.

Davos sought out the proprietor of the largest tavern one evening, paid a copper star for an ale, and asked him a few innocent put pointed questions.

“Have you seen this letter?”

“No, but it’s not like I could read it if I did. One of Lord Coldwater’s household knights came down here for a drink and a woman not more than a month ago, and that letter was all that he could talk about.”

“How do you feel about the news?”

The proprietor shrugged. “As long as war doesn’t come to the Vale I couldn’t care less about all these men wanting to call themselves king. Though…” he took a sip of his own drink and wiped his mouth “…the Lannisters murdered Lord Jon Arryn. His death was too quick _not_ to be murder, and who benefitted most from it? If Stannis can bring justice to Lannisters and their lackeys, perhaps he deserves that throne.”

_Those are the sentiments I want to hear. Stannis might not think he has the love of the people, but if the people hate the Lannisters more_ …Davos simply nodded in agreement. “What about the Lord Protector? How did he take the news?”

The proprietor grimaced, as did a number of other men within earshot. “Lannister puppet through and through, that one, but we must not forget that he is an honored guest in Coldwater Vale.”

“And his beautiful daughter!” said another.

“Speaking of daughters…” the proprietor leaned in closer to Davos. “That letter from Stannis also said that Bolton’s bastard never married Arya Stark.”

Davos was immediately back in a small room with Lord Manderly: _“The north remembers, Lord Davos…and now I have a wedding to attend.”_ “Didn’t Lord Manderly and the northern lords travel to Winterfell for the wedding?” he finally said.

“Don’t know what all those frozen northern lords did. But it’s said that Stannis brought the girl calling herself ‘Arya Stark’ to the Wall, where she nearly got eaten alive by the direwolf of Ned Stark’s bastard son.”

“Jon Snow?”

“Aye, the boy would be Snow, not Stone like it is here. Don’t know his first name.” He paused. “The one who’s the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, you get my meaning. Who else living would recognize the true Stark girl from a fake?”

_Who indeed._ Davos left his empty tankard on the tavern counter and headed back to his bunk on his half-fixed ship to think over what he just heard.

~

Alayne Stone was on the beach the next morning with the sunrise, scarf around her hair. Davos saw her as he walked the _Laughing Merman’s_ deck.

“Ser Dale!” she called out.

“Lady Alayne. Where are your companions?”

“The sept. I wanted to ask you a question before my morning prayers, a question I did not want Mya and Myranda to hear.”

Wex shot Davos a strange look, gesturing for him to go and speak with Alayne. Not that Davos would have done anything different. Wex followed him off the ship.

“Your fingers. What happened to them?”

Davos stilled. In addition to stopping his crew from calling him anything other than “Ser,” Davos had been careful to always wear gloves to hide the shortened fingers that Ser Davos Seaworth was famous for.

Alayne seemed to think his hesitation was due to embarrassment. “You’re simply wearing gloves right now,” she said gently. “The first day I met you on the beach you weren’t.”

Davos warily looked around him. Though there were plenty of men on the docks, on ships, and in the village, none were in earshot. Alayne was looking at him expectantly, and for all Davos knew she would run off to her Lord father and report that a dead man had come back to life. But the girl seemed genuinely innocent, nothing like the snake he knew and Stannis professed Petyr Baelish to be.

_It wouldn’t hurt to tell her the truth. It’s not like I can grow new fingers overnight._

“It was my own fault that I lost my fingertips,” Davos began, remembering a rainy day at Storm’s End and a gaunt young man who had more responsibility thrust upon him than anyone should at his age. “I made some poor choices in life, got mixed up with the wrong sort of people…but everything worked out in the end. My lord knighted me and awarded me a small holdfast with good lands to raise my family on, and in return I serve him by telling him the truth. Even if the truth is a bitter draught at times.”

Alayne smiled. “You sound like a good and honorable knight, Ser Dale.”

Davos returned her smile, though his was laced with bitterness. “If only things were that simple. If I was a better knight, I would have been able to protect four of my sons from untimely deaths.”

“What happened to them?”

_They burned alive on Blackwater Bay, with the screams of terrified and tortured men ringing in their ears._ “They drowned.”

“I am sorry.”

Davos shrugged. “You don’t have to say that.”

Alayne bit her lip and turned her eyes toward the ground. “But I truly am sorry. I didn’t say that just to be kind.”

Davos thought that Alayne would walk on to the sept, but she wasn’t done with her questions: “Didn’t King Stannis have a knight without four of his fingertips?”

_First she prays for Stannis to win a battle, and now she asks about his knights? And calls Stannis king?_ Wex was now staring intently at the girl, scratching his chin. Alayne seemed not to notice the mute. “He did. But hasn’t your father told you that Lord Manderly beheaded Ser Davos the Onion Knight to please his friends of Frey? And follow orders from Queen Cersei?”

Alayne’s face fell, and she grimaced at the mention of the queen. “I had hoped that those stories were false. Since you’re from White Harbor in the service of Lord Manderly, you’d know the truth better than anyone.”

“I don’t know where you’re getting ideas that Lord Manderly might be loyal to Stannis Baratheon, girl,” responded Davos in a harsh voice. “That’s a dangerous idea. I don’t think your father would be pleased to learn that _your_ loyalties might lie somewhere other than the boy on the Iron Throne.”

“I wish you luck in fixing your ship,” replied Alayne, her face now a mask. She quickly turned away, but a sudden icy gust of wind blew off her headscarf. Wex ran to catch the piece of grey silk as Alayne gave a frightened gasp. Davos didn’t understand her fear. If she was worried about propriety, well, that didn’t make sense because it was the fashion among highborn women to leave their hair _un_ covered.

Wex bowed to Alayne as he gave her back her scarf. Before she twisted it back around her head, Davos noted that her hair was a dull shade of brown…with an inch of auburn-colored roots that matched her eyebrows more than the rest of her hair.

~

Wex was restless for the rest of the day. Davos finally took the boy aside to try and puzzle out what was eating at him. With a determined look on his face, Wex grabbed Davos’ good hand and led him to the beach. He knelt down in the sand, smoothed a patch of it, and then began to write slowly with his right index finger: ALAYNE IS A STARK.

Davos stared at the words. When he had finally sounded them out, he burst out laughing. “That’s absurd, Wex! Why…” but before Davos could start listing all the reasons why Alayne Stone was likely nothing more than Alayne Stone, Wex began shaking his head like his life depended on it. Wex then erased his first sentence and replaced it with another: ALAYNE LOOKS LIKE BRAN AND RICKON STARK.

Wex _would_ know what Bran and Rickon Stark looked like, but still…Fighting the urge to keep laughing at the sheer absurdity of Wex’s claim, Davos decided to humor the boy: “What about her, then?”

Wex pointed to his eyes, touched his brows, and then pulled at the roots of his hair.

“So she has the same eye and hair color?”

Wex nodded, writing two more words in the sand: NORTHERN ACCENT.

It certainly was true that Alayne didn’t have a Vale accent. Davos had noticed that of her from the start. “So you’ve deduced that Alayne Stone is a northern girl with the same coloring as Bran and Rickon Stark. I could probably sail north right now and find a hundred girls with those same characteristics. Tell me, if the girl is truly a Stark, where’s her direwolf?”

Wex shrugged and drew a finger across his neck, as if to say “Wolves die.”

“You’ve been on this beach too long, Wex. Find something to eat and get some sleep.” Wex gave him a reproachful look and rushed off, leaving Davos standing in the sand, thinking. Waves lapped at the shore.

Davos mulled over all of the conversations he’d had with Alayne as she walked to and from the sept every morning. Most of the words he had exchanged with her had been polite remarks about the repairs on his ship, the cold weather, things of that sort. But then there were Alayne’s odd comments about Stannis and her sadness at hearing that Ser Davos had been beheaded. What business would a Vale girl have in praying for the outcome of a battle hundreds of leagues away, unless she was actually present at it? What would Stannis and Ser Davos be to her?

_But would it make sense for a Stark? If I were a Stark I’d support Stannis over anyone else. He’s actively fought against the Lannisters who killed Lord Eddard, the Greyjoys who supposedly killed the two little boys, and the Freys and Boltons who killed Lord Robb and Lady Catelyn. Stannis is a Stark’s best change for vengeance, as well as any other northerner—Lord Manderly has made that plain._ For a wild moment Davos wondered if his king’s recent victories in the North were due in any part to advice from Lord Commander Snow.

Davos shook his head, deciding to get back to reality. His ship’s repairs were nearly complete, and he knew that he should leave the Vale before Lord Baelish decided to question his daughter about her daily walks. Looking down at his boots, Davos noticed that Wex had written one final message: ASK HER.

~

The next morning Davos never got the chance to ask her. Well, he could’ve taken the chance, but that would have been inadvisable in front of Alayne’s company. In addition to Mya and Myranda, Alayne was accompanied by two stern-looking men in Arryn colors who presented Davos with a roll of parchment.

“It’s an invitation from my father,” explained Alayne before Davos could unroll it. “He’s inviting you to dine with him this evening before you sail back north.”

Davos’ expression must have revealed his apprehension at the prospect, for Alayne hastily added: “You have nothing to fear.”

“That may be true, Lady Alayne. May I ask why the Lord Protector of the Eyrie would wish to sup with a simple knight from White Harbor?”

“Visitors to the Vale are few and far between. My father is interested to hear any news you have from White Harbor and the North.”

_I’m sure he is. But to what end?_ Stannis had never trusted Lord Baelish, and Davos had never found a reason to do so either. But it was unlikely that a knight like Ser Dale could get away with refusing such a request. “I likely won’t have any news that he’s looking for. I’ve been at sea for quite some time.”

“Then just talk about your ship,” said Alayne. “Guards will be here sunset to escort you to the castle.” Alayne curtsied and went her usual way to the sept.

~

“This is folly, Wex, complete and utter folly!”

Wex, of course, said nothing as a retinue of Lord Baelish’s guards were sighted making their way to the _Laughing Merman_. Davos had been sorely tempted to sail out of Coldwater Vale that day, regardless if the ship wasn’t completely repaired. The mast was finished and the thing could float without taking on water. If Lord Baelish weaseled out his true identity or recognized him on the spot…

Wex and the crew had other ideas. They supplied him with green hair dye and trimmed his beard to look like a trident. Looking like a mythical merman was quite popular among the nobility and common folk alike in White Harbor, and Davos was told that the green dye provided to him was the same that Lady Wylla Manderly used to keep her hair a vibrant green. _“You have a common face, Lord Davos. I hope my saying so does not offend you.”_ Lord Manderly had told Davos that before he had traveled north to Winterfell. A host of Freys who had watched Davos give his vengeance speech had all confirmed that the severed head sitting on White Harbor’s walls was indeed that of the traitorous Onion Knight. Davos prayed to the gods that Baelish was as easily fooled as the Freys. He had only met the man once or twice in Stannis’ company, and even then Davos had been given no more than a cursory glance by the man.

Wex was allowed to accompany him to dinner. Ancient Lord Coldwater welcomed Davos by the door of his castle and led him to the banquet hall where a small but decadent meal had been laid out. The lord retreated to his solar, leaving Davos to stare at the elegantly dressed man sitting at the head of the table.

The man was Lord Protector Petyr Baelish, or course, whose outfit was topped off with a small, smug smile.

“Ser Dale of White Harbor. I’ve never heard of you,” said Lord Baelish as a greeting without rising from his chair. “Though something about you seems…vaguely familiar.” He stared long and hard at Davos. All of Davos’ instincts said that he should turn and run, but he could detect no spark of recognition in the man’s eyes. Yet.

“I’ve never heard of you either, my lord, and nothing about you is familiar to me. Not many southern lords visit Lord Manderly.” The Davos Seaworth who had attended Stannis at the Red Keep had been very polite and courteous, deferring to his lord and not saying anything unless spoken to. And Davos never dared talk back to any lord save for Stannis.

Lord Baelish smiled and gestured to the girl on his right who was wearing a red headscarf. “May I introduce you to my daughter, Alayne? I hear that you two are already acquainted.”

“We are.” Alayne’s eyebrows rose at seeing him, but other than that there was no reaction to his change in appearance. “What had she said about me?”

Baelish placed a protective hand on his daughter’s shoulder. Oddly, Alayne flinched at the touch.

“According to Alayne, you are a plain knight who has regaled her with tales of the sea. I told her that it’s often the plain men who are the most interesting. Which is why I requested you dine with me this evening.” He gave a signal with his hand, causing a servant to materialize with a pitcher of wine. “I do hope you and your companion will enjoy a glass of mulled wine. It’s a shame this hall is so drafty that you must wear gloves inside, Ser.”

Davos sat, putting great effort not to bring attention to his left hand. He had stuffed rags into the tips of his left glove, and the effect made his fingers look quite normal at first glance. Baelish gave another signal, and a thick butternut squash soup was served. The hour that followed was one of the most uncomfortable dinners that Davos had ever sat though. Though slightly less uncomfortable than the feast at Stannis’ wedding or the meal where Maester Cressen had been…outmatched by Melisandre.

“My men tell me that your ship is brand new. I didn’t know that Lord Manderly had recently built new ships,” commented Baelish.

_There’s much and more that you don’t know about Lord Manderly. He has a whole fleet hidden on the White Knife, ready to give to Stannis’ cause if I don’t fail._ Davos shrugged. “My lord has built a few, though only to protect White Harbor from the likes of Lord Stannis and his pirate allies in the Free Cities. I’m excited to captain a new ship, because…” and Davos launched into a detailed description of the ship and how well it maneuvered, per Alayne’s suggestion. Baelish’s eyes began to glaze over slightly, and they seemed to have lost the curiosity they had had upon first meeting him. _Good._

As Davos feigned ignorance to Lord Manderly’s loyalties or present whereabouts (that he didn’t have to feign, as he literally had no idea what had become of the fat lord when Stannis conquered Winterfell), Alayne remained as silent as Wex. Davos expected something different given his conversations with her on the beach. She didn’t speak unless spoken to by her father, and all of her smiles looked forced.

“Do you have any questions for me?” inquired Baelish as lemon cakes were served for dessert. Davos was reminded of Stannis’ fondness for lemon water.

“Why are you here in Coldwater Vale, my lord? Isn’t your seat at the Eyrie?”

“Snows have closed the Eyrie. The Gates of the Moon are much more accessible, not to mention more hospitable. As well, I deemed it prudent to visit young Lord Arryn’s bannermen to be assured of their loyalty now that winter is here. We don’t need Starks to tell us that winter is coming.” Baelish turned away from Davos to speak directly to his daughter. “Right, sweetling?”

Alayne’s eyes snapped to her father’s, who quirked an eyebrow at her. Wex kicked Davos under the table, as if to remind Davos that he believed Alayne to be a Stark. _Which Stark girl, though? Arya or Sansa?_ Davos had no idea what either girl looked like, and Alayne had no resemblance to Eddard Stark to begin with.

“Right, father,” responded Alayne listlessly, as Baelish tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from her headscarf behind her ear, his hand lingering longer than it should. “There are no Starks left.”

“Now wish Ser Dale a good evening and give your father a kiss before you retire.” Baelish’s interest in Ser Dale had long disappeared, which Davos was dully grateful for. However, his sweet mulled wine left a sour taste in his mouth when he saw the way the Lord Protector was looking at his daughter.

~

“Good morning, Ser Dale.”

“The same to you, Lady Alayne.”

Sunrise had just passed, and the sept was tolling its bells to summon the faithful to morning prayers. If Alayne tarried much longer by Davos’ ship, Mya and Myranda might think something was amiss when she didn’t show up on time for the service.

“It was an enjoyable dinner last night, wasn’t it? The lemon cakes were delicious.”

“Yes, the lemon cakes were delicious. But you know as well as I that the dinner wasn’t enjoyable.”

Alayne disagreed. “It was because you were there. Father is always more pleasant and courteous when guests are present.”

Davos didn’t know whether to be touched or dismayed at her comment. What was Baelish like when guests _weren’t_ present? “I’m leaving Coldwater Vale tomorrow, Alayne. The major repairs to my ship are finished, and anything else it needs can be done at White Harbor.” Davos had discussed the matter with his crew after dinner, wishing to be rid of Lord Protector Baelish. True, he hadn’t deduced that Ser Dale and Ser Davos were one in the same, but Davos wasn’t going to give him the chance.

Alayne frowned at that, and for a split second Davos thought she might cry.

“What reason do you have to be distressed at my leaving?” _If Wex were here, he’s be prodding me to ask Alayne if she’s a Stark._ Again. _Arya or Sansa? Sansa or Arya? It’s as good a time as any to ask her and make a guess._ Davos stepped closer to her and said in a kind, soft voice: “Please tell me what’s troubling you, Sansa Stark.”

Alayne started and her eyes grew wide at those words, looking frightened as if she’d just seen a ghost. She made to run away, but Davos grabbed her right shoulder and whirled her around so she had no choice but to look at him. Unlike last night with Petyr Baelish, Alayne—no, _Sansa_ didn’t flinch at his touch. “You _are_ Sansa Stark, aren’t you?” demanded Davos.

“What’s it to you, Ser Davos Seaworth?”

Now it was Davos’ turn to be shocked. He stepped back slightly, but he didn’t release his grip on Sansa’s shoulder.

“Everything.”

They stared at each other for a while, the smuggler raised to be a king’s Hand and the once future queen lowered to posing as a bastard. An icy wind was blowing, and the laughter of sailors could be heard in the background. Davos could smell the salt of the sea.

“You’re not the only Stark left, you know, despite what Petyr Baelish wants you to think.”

“The Starks are all traitors who betrayed the one true king,” Sansa replied automatically, as if she had parroted the line a thousand times before.

“Who taught you to say that? Your ‘father’? Or the Lannisters? Maybe it’s time that you call _them_ the traitors.”

Sansa bit her lip, still not saying anything. She unwound her headscarf and pulled a long braid over her shoulder.

_The girl’s still scared, but I need her to say something!_ “Look, do you want my help or not? Why go through all the trouble of figuring out who I am if you stand here and do nothing?”

Sansa’s blue eyes moved over Davos’ face. He gave her a little shake.

“I can’t promise you anything, but come seven hells or high water I _will_ try and get you out of here if that’s your will. You wanted King Stannis to win the Battle of Blackwater Bay? If the rumors are true, he’s won the entire North to his cause. He’ll protect you. If you don’t believe a whit of what I’m saying, at least let me take you to your brother on the Wall.”

“But Alayne Stone has no brothers still living.” Davos bit back a groan. _Baelish taught her to play a bastard only too well._

“But Sansa Stark still does.” What had Stannis written of Lord Commander Snow? _“Snow is the spitting image of Ned Stark, and he’s bold and insolent to a fault. Snow threw back my offers of Winterfell and the Stark name, choosing instead to rot on the Wall for the rest of his life as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Still, I will make use of him as I can, for he has a decent knowledge of the land and people of the North.”_

“Sansa Stark has a brother at the Wall, one with a white direwolf dogging his steps. And who looks just like her father.”

“Jon? And Ghost?” gasped Sansa, hope starting to conquer the fear in her eyes.

_Now we’re getting somewhere._ Davos hadn’t met anyone who knew Lord Commander Snow’s first name since leaving Eastwatch. And a true bastard of Petyr Baelish would have as much business knowing that name as she did praying for Stannis Baratheon.

But then doubt started to creep in with the hope. “Why would you want to help me? Just so your king can marry me off to some knight for his own gain? Or perhaps _you_ want to marry me for my claim to Winterfell?”

Davos shook his head. “I’ve never said anything about marriages. Or rights to northern castles I’ve never visited.”

“No? But that’s what everyone seems to want. First the Lannisters, then Lord Baelish, then…”

Davos cut her off. “Why do I want to help you, you ask? It might be true that Lord Manderly only spared my life so he could use my smuggler skills to find a Stark boy who everyone believes to be dead. And it also might be true that Lord Manderly will take Stannis Baratheon as his king if I bring a trueborn Stark to White Harbor. But when it all comes down to it, I don’t give a damn about those things.”

Sansa blinked, surprised at Davos’ confession. “You don’t?”

“A true knight protects the innocent and defends the weak, does he not? I know what it’s like to watch one’s family die before your very eyes. Seeing my wife and three youngest sons alive again is the only thing I truly care about, and I consider it time well spent to help another family reunite.”

“They didn’t drown, did they. Your four elder sons.”

Davos removed his hand from Sansa’s shoulder, turning away from her and wiping his eyes before she could notice any tears. Not that there were any, of course.

_She remembered my sons. Sansa really did mean it when she was sorry for their loss all that time ago._ “I tell myself that they drowned. Drowning is a fitting death for a sailor. But my heart knows that they burned alive during the Battle of Blackwater Bay with me being helpless to do anything except save my own skin.”

When Davos turned back around Sansa’s hands were covering her mouth. She quickly dropped them, swallowed, and said with a steely determination he never thought possible from her: “I _am_ Sansa Stark. It is my will for you to spirit me away from this place. I want you to take me to the Wall so I can see my half—” she paused. “So I can be with my _brother_ and his wolf. I might barely know you, but I stand by what I said earlier. You seem like a good and honorable knight, and I trust you.”

Davos was just starting to process Sansa’s request and its possible implications when she asked one of her many questions:

“Are you still leaving Coldwater Vale tomorrow?”

“Now.” Davos knew that he still had to gather his crew, double check his supplies…But Lord Manderly hadn’t trusted Westeros’ (former) most notorious smuggler for nothing. “We’re leaving now.”

~

In White Harbor, Ser Wylis Manderly was doubtful that Sansa Stark was Sansa Stark until she told him a story of meeting him at Winterfell many years ago. There, young Sansa had told Ser Wylis that he couldn’t be a knight because he was so fat—to the horror of her mother.

“My father was wise to have faith in you, Lord Davos Seaworth,” said Ser Wylis after he had wiped away tears of laughter. “Go to your king and tell him that White Harbor is his. I’ll send a raven to the Wall, informing the Lord Commander that he must prepare for two very important guests.”

Cotter Pyke at Eastwatch was also doubtful that Sansa Stark was Sansa Stark until she expressed a desire to see Lord Snow’s direwolf.

“There have been disturbing rumors concerning Lord Snow,” Pyke warned Davos. “Things about death, stabbings, fire, and resurrection.” Sansa suddenly looked frightened. “But as far as I know, girl, him and that beast of his are still alive and arguing with that king who couldn’t smile if his life depended on it.”

~

“We’re an hour from Castle Black, my lord and my lady,” said Grenn, one of the rangers Cotter Pyke had provided as an escort from Eastwatch.

“You’re very beautiful, Lady Sansa. Though you look nothing like Lord Snow,” said another ranger with big ears named Pyp. Most of the Night’s Watch brothers were enamored with Sansa, and Davos hoped that they would do nothing except smile at and compliment her. Wex, who was also riding beside Davos, hadn’t stopped looking smug since leaving Coldwater Vale. In truth, the boy deserved most of the credit for finding Sansa, and Davos would make sure he was well rewarded.

“I thank you,” replied Sansa with a blush. “I look like my mother, while Jon looks like our father.”

“We all hope you’re not lying about who you are,” said Pyp in a suddenly stern voice. “Rumor has it that Lord Snow shut himself in his chambers for a day when the girl calling herself ‘Arya Stark’ turned out not to be so.”

“I imagine he was heartbroken. He always loved Arya,” whispered Sansa in a voice only Davos could hear. Grenn chimed in.

“He also only came out when King Stannis yelled at him to stop acting like a boy and to start acting like the lord he was, and his father was, and his father before him…You get the picture.”

Davos laughed. A true laugh full of mirth that he hadn’t heard from himself in many, many moons. He was interested to meet Lord Snow after hearing about him via raven from Stannis and from firsthand accounts from his brothers. Curiously, Sansa didn’t have much to say about her brother other than that he was very much like her father—the late Lord Eddard Stark, not Petyr Baelish. And also that Robb had been his best friend and that Arya had loved him more than anyone.

Suddenly, Davos’ horse reared and nearly threw him as a large white blur shot in front of it.

“Ghost!” exclaimed Sansa as the biggest wolf Davos had ever seen started to walk next to her horse. Ghost led Davos and Sansa’s small party to the crumbling black towers of Castle Black, where he promptly went to the side of a grave young man with dark hair and horrible scars around one of his grey eyes. As if it was one of the most natural things in the world, the young man was standing next to an equally grave older man with a fiery red crown atop his head.

Davos helped Sansa dismount from her horse before bowing low before both men. Save for a red crown, a golden cloak, and a white direwolf, both Stannis Baratheon and Jon Snow were dressed all in black. They wore similar stern expressions, and both their eyes were hard.

“Your Grace. Lord Commander Snow. I present Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell.”

Sansa’s eyes never left her brother’s face as she slowly removed the hood of her lined cloak, revealing auburn hair free of brown dye thanks to Wylla Manderly. Lord Snow visibly began to shake, and his right hand buried itself in his wolf’s white fur. He looked at Stannis for a split second and nodded to the king as Sansa slowly approached him.

“Jon? Is that truly you?”

“Who else would I be, Sansa?”

“Well,” answered Sansa, her voice trembling as she reached out an ungloved hand to trace the scars around his eye. “For a moment I thought I was looking at father when…”

But Sansa never got to finish her sentence as Lord Snow pulled her to him in a fierce hug.

“I’m glad you’re not dead, Sansa. I’m glad I’m not the last Stark.”

Stannis moved away to give the two some space, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He had the oddest expression on his face, one akin to…was that _jealousy_? Davos hadn’t known Stannis to be jealous of anyone or anything, except for…Ned Stark. It was Ned Stark who King Robert had loved like a brother, not his own trueborn sibling. And now Stark’s bastard son clearly had the love of his sister, whatever problems lay between them. Stannis shook his head, his face back to his usual stern mask.

“Lord Davos,” began Lord Snow after gently pushing his sister away. Like Stannis, he reverted his face back to the stern expression expected of a Lord Commander. But unlike Stannis, he failed to keep the expression and threw his arms around Davos instead.

“Thank you,” said Jon, in a soft voice meant for him and him alone. “For my sister.”

Jon Snow looked nothing like any of Davos’ sons, but the young Lord Commander reminded Davos of them all the same. _He’s the same age that Maric, or perhaps Matthos would be if they were still alive._ There would be time, Davos knew, to talk with his king, to laugh with Devan who was now running toward him, and to learn more about the horrors that were plaguing the Wall. But for the moment he was content to return Jon’s embrace.

“It’s the least I could do for you, lad.”

Those dead things in the water were but a distant memory. For now.

END

**Author's Note:**

> “Wild seas…Dead things in the woods…Dead things in the water.”  
> Cotter Pyke, Jon XII _A Dance with Dragons_
> 
> I think it’s fairly safe to say that Davos’ journey to Skagos in canon isn’t going to go smoothly. If he even gets there at all. With ice zombies attacking the Wall, it’s only a matter of time before the sea zombies come to life…Personally, I’d love to see Davos find one of the long “lost” Starks in canon and bring him/her to a very much alive!Jon.


End file.
